Happenstance
Chapter 4 – Talking with Strangers


you'll say it's a crush
there's nothing much
his words are mush
it's nothing much
makes you blush
a little touch
leaves you flushed
from just a touch
he makes you rush
so you will clutch
and make you hush
cause you've clutched
in his clutch
by his touch
fallen too much
heart'll be crushed.


I wake up from the sound of shouting.

My room is dark and humid, curtains dancing in the evening wind, flapping against each other and drowning out the noises that had awoken me. I close my eyes again and turn on my side, burying my face in my pillow as I try to chase after my dream again, its essence starting to drift away. I'd been having a good dream – the one in which I won first place at our old community center's swimming tournament. Mom was in the stands at that time, her hands holding a watermelon slushie that she'd bought for me to enjoy after the race, whether or not I won. Aniki was out by the vending machines, trying to free his stuck dollar coin to get Pops his cola. And Pops was sitting beside mom, arms folded across his chest as he watched me grab onto the ledge of the pool. I'd won. And he was proud of me. She was proud of me. Aniki was proud of me. I made them proud, and that made me proud of myself. For a moment at least…

…Maybe I woke up because of the Blue Devil, instead.

Blue Devils aren't supposed at children's swimming tournaments. Blue Devils aren't supposed to be sitting in the front row, eyeing you constantly and there's that devious glare in his eyes that you've seen before. You've seen before. Blue Devils aren't supposed to be around, and behind, and staring down at you and asking you questions. Questions you don't understand, don't care to answer, and why's he all up in my face? Blue Devils aren't something you want to dream about. Maybe it was better that I woke up.

I turn on my other side, clutching the blanket close as I slide my bare legs against one another. My T-shirt is sticking to my skin. I think about tossing the sheets into the corner of the bed, because it's a ridiculously hot evening, and I really gotta stop being so… childish. With a heavy sigh, I push my legs out from underneath the blanket, a cool sensation washing me over for a few short seconds before my legs begin to feel sticky and tingly again.

I frown, pulling myself up into a sitting position and stare at my blank, black wall as I set my feet on the floor. The curtains have stopped dancing, and the breeze has left my window to greet someone else's. Someone who probably already has air-conditioning in their apartment. With a small groan, I reach back to grab my pillow. I contemplate for a moment before decidedly leaving my blanket behind and then make my way into the living room. I fiddle around in the dark to turn on the small fan, and then make my way to the couch before sinking in. I sigh in relief as I close my eyes and a rush of wind lifts the edges of my hair. As if I was standing by a cliff, overlooking the ocean.

The atmosphere is quiet, with the faint sound of cars and trucks on the streets and an occasional airplane flying overhead. They're gentle urban noises that lull me to a lazy sleep. That make me momentarily forget that tomorrow will be scorching hot. And that tomorrow I may have to bring out that old t-shirt in my dresser to wear to school. Maybe. And maybe Aniki and Pops won't lecture me.

I suddenly jump when I hear heavy footsteps down the hall, outside our apartment. Instinctively, Eye-Patch's face comes to mind, and I picture him sluggishly dragging himself to his door, talking on the phone and clutching the wounded side of his face. Eye narrowed as he tries not to let his painful groans betray his words of assurance. It's so like him.

I listen carefully for his voice, but hear none. He must be alone – if it is him. And while the story should just end there and my curiosity should be satisfied, I'm not. It's one in the morning. Why does he often come home so late? The fact that it's none of my business makes me partially suppress the urge to peak through the mail flap again and check if it's really him. But only partially. And sure enough, after a few seconds, I slide off the couch and tip toe toward the door. Pressing my palms lightly against the wood, I look through the peephole just in time to see his door close.

And yet his keys are still in the lock.

I gulp as I realize the responsibility that has sudden fallen on my shoulders. Either I knock on his door and tell him he's forgotten his keys, or I ignore it and leave his home at a high risk for burglars. I groan, slapping my hand against my forehead as I contemplate what to do. He may have a little sister or an elderly grandparent in his home, and in that case, it's my moral obligation to tell him. Then again, it's not really any of my business. And I don't even know him, and I was supposed to be fast asleep on my couch anyway.

I decide I'll step out, grab the keys and shove them through the mail flap and he'll find it on the ground of his apartment the next morning. Quick and easy. And I don't have to meet him face to face. There shouldn't be anything wrong with that. And it should be perfectly safe; it's just a few footsteps out the door, really. I worriedly glance back at Aniki's and Pop's bedroom doors. I should be fine. I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, knowing I had let even someone like Eye-Patch leave his keys in the lock.

I make my way to the closet to grab a jacket, my hand shaky as I pull it off the rack. I don't usually do this sort of thing. This sort of middle of the night savior for a person I don't know or like and was pathetic enough to steal a tube of glue from me. But even so, I know if I were him, I'd appreciate it if I had someone who looked after me when I did something as stupid as this. Someone to be concerned if I came home in the middle of the night with scars on my face.

Sliding my arms through the sleeves, I slip on a pair of flip-flops and quietly open my door. Quick and easy, quick and easy, I repeat in my head. Just reach out and grab the keys and shove them through the flap.

I step into the hallway, and realize it's a lot cooler than inside my apartment. The lights are hazy, and the hallway is empty from left to right. Everyone's asleep and I feel a little better even though I can feel my pulse quickening because I just don't do this sort of thing. Not recently, at least. I take a step forward and silently wiggle the keys out, cursing under my breath when it jiggles too loudly. But it finally comes free, and I let out a small sigh of relief before I hear the door click. And it opens.

And I glance up, and he's glancing down.

The keys fall out of my hands and I impulsively take a rapid step back, stumbling slightly as my eyes grow wide in fear. My heart pounding in my ears and my hands unable to move as he glares at me. Glares at me as if I was the one trying to break in.

"What are you doing?"

My palms press against the wall, and I lean against it with numb limbs, my mouth unable to articulate any meaningful sounds. I should've never left the apartment, honestly, why did I do that? It's none of my business what happens to him or his family. None of my business to butt in… and what idiot leaves her apartment in the middle of the night to help some bozo she doesn't even know

He steps out into the light of the hall, his face finally revealed from under the shadows of his dark apartment, and I notice there are no scars or wounds like I had previously predicted. Just a simple face, really. Al Bhed. Tanned and quite handsome. Blonde. I quickly glance away when I realize I've been staring for a little too long. He bends down to grab his keys off the floor. I feel him pause momentarily to look at me, probably deciding whether or not to question me any further when suddenly, down the hall, the elevator doors open.

Instantly, he reaches out and snatches my wrist, grabbing me firmly and pulling me inside with unrelenting force. His hand tightly presses against my mouth to keep me from screaming, and he pushes me against the door, closing it. Reaches down, and locks it. And holds me still.

I'm trembling, tears automatically sliding silently down my cheeks because he won't let me make a peep of a noise as he holds me securely in place. Holds me so tightly that my arms hurt and my head hurts and I can't budge, can't move. Holding me against my will and this is not right! And let me go, let me go, please! Let me go!

He shushes me, pressing his body slightly against mine as he bends over to look through the peephole. "Just be quiet," he whispers, not withdrawing his hands. But his voice is gentle. And assuring, like the time I spied on him talking on the phone. And after a few minutes of silence between the two of us, my heartbeat starts to slow down, my hysteria dying with it. And my wrist just hurts.

I can't see a thing in his dark apartment, except for a weakly lit room down the hall. It reminds me of my apartment, except his is much hotter. Or maybe it's just because I've still got the jacket on, and he's too close for comfort.

And then, slowly, I feel his grip lessening, and he releases me with a small sigh of relief. But his body is still hovering over mine, and he doesn't move from his position. "Cunno (Sorry)," he says, turning away from the peephole.

I don't respond, reaching up to wipe my face with the sleeve of the jacket instead, glad that he can't see my wet face in the dark. I flinch when I feel his fingers touch my cheek.

"Are you alright? Sorry, I didn't mean to… It's just, I thought it was… someone." His low voice sends a slight shiver down my back, making my limbs twitch suddenly. As if just snapped out of their previously numb state. "Are you alright?" he asks again.

I nod, mumbling in a bare whisper, "Yes" when I realize he can't possibly see my nod in the dark. I feel his body backing away, and his footsteps walk quietly throughout his living room before he turns on a small lamp in the corner. The place lights up dimly. I immediately hug my torso, compelled to stand still as my mind screams for me to grab onto the doorknob and rush back to our apartment and hide in Pop's bed. But Eye-Patch is looking at me with a tired sort of expression, and I suddenly feel a bit comforted.

He takes a box of tissues from the table, walking over to me and holding it out. I take it clumsily and wipe my face dry. He helps me. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, holding my wrist with such tenderness that I never would have suspected he'd be capable of. And I feel more encouraged to reply honestly.

"A little."

He rubs his thumb against the back of my hand before tugging me gently toward the kitchen. "I'll get you some ice… I'm sorry again."

I hesitate before replying, "It's okay." Somehow, it's as if I deserved it. For butting into his business when I should've just left the damn keys in his lock and not suddenly decide it was time to be spontaneous and heroic. I pull my arm back to my side as discretely as possible to not offend him. "Actually, I think I'll just… go back home." I shrug sheepishly. "I have ice too."

He raises his eyebrow at me, opening his freezer and dropping a few ice cubes into a plastic bag. "Don't worry about it," he says with a light chuckle. "It's the least I can do after scaring you like that."

Something inside of me tightens, and I have the sudden urge to protest his quick assumption that I was scared. As if I have something to prove to him. Even though it was true. I take the bag of ice from him with a quiet thanks.

"What were you doing with my keys anyway?" he asks, leaning against the fridge as he watches me lay the bag across my wrist.

I frown slightly. I want to go home. I don't want to talk to him. Especially in his apartment, and especially alone. But then a part of me says it's alright. Says he seems like a trustworthy guy – but that's what they all seem like at first anyway. I must have a soft spot for blonde boys. "I saw your keys left in the lock. I was gonna slip it through your door." I glance up, realizing my own tone doesn't sound too convincing. "Honest."

He hesitates before smiling faintly. "Alright… I guess I should be thanking you then." He holds out his hand. "Gippal."

It's a moment before I realize he's just told me his name, and then another second to realize that he's waiting for me to tell him mine. Clumsily, and without a second thought, I blurt out immediately, "Reiko."

I don't know why I did that. Especially after my whole epiphany of deciding he's a trustworthy guy. Maybe my instincts are trying to tell me otherwise.

"Reiko," he says, testing it on his lips. He smiles. "That's my cousin's name too."

I force out an awkward smile before glancing down and turning around. "I should get back home."

I feel his footsteps behind me. "Let me walk you."

"It's fine."

He scoffs slightly. "Girls like you shouldn't be walking the halls at night."

I raise my eyebrow, that tightening feeling awakening again in my chest, and I can't help it this time. "Girls like… me?" I say, even though I know exactly what he means. And at the same time, kind of daring him to make it mean something else. To not assume that I'm the weak, sissy type.

"Yeah," he says in a somewhat smug tone, pressing one hand flat against the wall beside me and leaning down casually. "Girls like you."

And just like that, I'm completely guilt-free of having told him a false name. Narrowing my gaze, I clutch my hand around the doorknob and turn it open. "Thank you, but I'll be fine," I say, contemplating before adding, "I live right across from you." He would've find out sooner or later, anyway.

"Oh." He pulls back and lets me step out into the hall. He leans against the frame of his door as he watches me step back into my apartment. His face is busy with intense thought.

I quickly close the door behind me, sinking down to the ground with a sigh, feeling all weird and awkward. It's a moment before I'm back on my feet again, glancing out the peephole to check if he's gone back inside. He has.

I take off the jacket and hang it back in the closet. The ice has almost completely melted in this hot temperature and I pour out the remaining liquid into the sink before tossing out the plastic bag.

The fan is still on where I left it, and I make my way back to the couch, wrapping my fingers around my swollen wrist as I think about my encounter with him. Such a strange encounter it was. And what a stupid person I was for taking such a risk. My mind is fully awake and my heart is just beginning to return to its normal pace. Why I didn't run out the moment he released me, I don't know. It's as if I haven't learned from my past mistakes. It's as if I were walking into the same trap all over again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I press my palm against my chest and close my eyes, my body tightening so much now that I feel it's going to curl inward and swallow itself. Never again will I do something like that. Girls like me should know better than that.


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